


Family

by Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer



Series: Supernatural: Fate Rewritten [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan Being an Asshole, Adam Milligan is So Done, Caring Mary Winchester, Castiel & Mary Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel and John Winchester Meet, Comfort No Hurt, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Not John's Good Little Soldier, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester is Not Homophobic, Kissing, M/M, Mary Winchester Finds Out About Adam Milligan, Michael Hates John Winchester, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Michael Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Resurrected John Winchester, Resurrected Mary Winchester, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sorry I'm not like the SPN writers I can't just dismiss 15 whole seasons of character development ig, Supernatural: Fate Rewritten, anymore, just kissing, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer/pseuds/Lucigoosey_The_Lightbringer
Summary: Dean skidded to a stop in the doorway, inhaling sharply at the sight before him. His gaze locked on John out of pure instinct, but then they darted straight to where Mary sat beside him at the table. His mother raised her head and looked up, and her exclamation of "Dean!" cut John off.
Relationships: Adam Milligan & Dean Winchester, Adam Milligan & John Winchester, Adam Milligan & Mary Winchester, Adam Milligan & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Adam Milligan, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & John Winchester, Castiel & Mary Winchester, Castiel & Michael (Supernatural), Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Adam Milligan, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & John Winchester, Jack Kline & Mary Winchester, Jack Kline & Michael, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester, John Winchester & Michael, John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester & Sam Winchester, Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael & Dean Winchester, Michael & Mary Winchester, Michael & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural: Fate Rewritten [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016497
Comments: 32
Kudos: 167





	1. Dean

Needless to say, Dean didn't get any sleep.

Honestly, he felt more energized right then than he'd felt in weeks. His lips mashed against Castiel's again, and again, and again with no hesitation, no fear. It was as if they'd always been like this, and honestly Dean had always felt like they might as well have. He was practically drunk on it right then, the kisses and the little touches and the way Castiel ran his fingers through his hair as he pressed him down onto the bed and covered the hunter's mouth with his own. Dean wanted to give himself over to the angel right then and there, but Castiel seemed more intent on taking it slow. He pressed another kiss to his lips and Dean melted into it, feeling Castiel's weight pressing down against him as he cupped his face with one hand and let the other trail down until it rested in the curve above Dean's hip bone, holding him tightly.

He never thought he could have this. He never thought he could have Castiel - another kiss, a desperate one that tore a whine from the hunter's lips - like this, he never thought they could be here _like this_ , that Castiel was even capable of loving him the way Dean had wanted him too. Every other struggle - they pulled apart and Dean gasped, sucking in as much air as he could. He was greedy with it; more air meant more kissing time - had been so easy to overcome. His doubts regarding his sexuality. Knowing he was falling for an angel. Thinking that he wasn't worth it, that he'd never amount to anything in the eyes of someone as old, and divine as Cas was - Castiel kissed him again and Dean shut his eyes, lost in the bliss of the moment.

But the one struggle he couldn't get past was how… how innocent Castiel seemed, how little he understood about humans and their relationships. He remembered watching him with Meg, seeing him try to understand _porn_ , learning that he'd had sex with April. All those things had made Dean wonder. Wonder if Castiel was capable of _loving_ like that. He knew the angel was capable of love, of course. He knew he was capable of attachment, fondness, affection. But he'd never dared to let his thoughts venture in this direction. To believe that he could have _this._ He never allowed himself to misinterpret the things Castiel said. He never allowed himself the chance to misunderstand, to jump to conclusions. He just brushed him off as a weird, strange little guy, an angel, an enigma, something Dean truly would never understand, himself. But that was okay, or at least he tried to make it seem okay, because he still had Castiel there anyway.

Castiel pulled back and Dean groaned at the loss, blinking his eyes open and glaring up into the angel's eyes for a moment, the bright, electrifying blue that never failed to make a shudder roll down his spine. He wondered if Castiel could feel it now, the way his body shivered in response to the intense gaze. They were so close, close enough that he could feel the heat as Castiel panted, out of breath despite being an angel. It only made Dean want to kiss him again more.

"You seem distracted," the angel breathed, and Dean blinked. He held onto Castiel's tie as the angel shifted his hand from his hip to the bed, pushing himself up a little and easing a bit of his weight off of the hunter. He grunted slightly at _that_ loss in itself, silently cursing his own body as he felt his blood continue to rush south despite Castiel's warmth not directly pressed against his front anymore. It was usually easy to ignore when the angel wasn't overtop of him and gasping for air with thin trails of saliva connecting them from their lips, but Dean ignored that for now.

"I'm not," he grunted, tugging on his tie a little. Castiel huffed slightly, an amused sound, but he leaned down to kiss him again anyway. But they parted far too soon - only for Castiel's lips to press against the side of his jaw instead. That made him shudder in a whole new way, sucking in a gasp at the tingling pleasure that raced down his spine in response to the simple touch, and Castiel let out a quiet hum and trailed his lips up a little to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, taut with excitement and pure, unadulterated joy at that moment. Castiel pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, then ducked his head and trailed his lips slowly down toward the hunter's ear, moving carefully, cautiously, almost timidly.

"I've always wanted to do this," Castiel admitted in a breathy whisper against his ear, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. For a moment, just a moment, he wondered if this was just some kind of vivid dream. If he'd drank too much. If he was about to wake up at any moment just to find that this wasn't real. But it certainly felt real, especially as Castiel ducked his head and pressed a kiss directly to the skin behind Dean's ear, an especially sensitive area; the hunter twitched slightly, his breath stuttering on a sharp inhale as he turned his head to press his face closer, and Castiel breathed out a gentle sigh against his skin, holding his lips still.

He wondered at the angel's confidence for a moment, his steadiness. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing right then. He knew all the right places, all the sensitive areas, where to kiss and touch and even what to _say_ to make Dean melt into nothing but pudding in his hands - and honestly, the hunter wouldn't have it any other way. Cas was still Cas, even with a little extra confidence in bed - right then, it was everything the hunter could have hoped for. He took a deep breath and turned his head, pressing his face into the crook of Castiel's neck, between his neck and shoulder, and pressed his lips against the skin there. He even allowed them to curl back a little, letting his teeth graze over skin, and he felt the ripple effect as Castiel shuddered above him, as his weight sank back down onto Dean all at once and even pressed down a little more, causing him to release his breath in a startled huff of air that quickly turned into a laugh.

"Always?" He finally asked, and Castiel paused. He drew his head back a little, peering down at the hunter trapped beneath him, and Dean managed to form a cocky grin back up at him. The angel tipped his head slightly, raising his eyebrows, then pulled up and away all too suddenly; Dean felt… he felt cold, he felt lost, as all the weight lifted off of him and Castiel rolled onto his back to settle into the bed beside Dean, nestled closely to the hunter above the blanket. Dean took a moment to admire him, stretched out on the left side of his bed with the bright light of the lamp bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. Despite himself, he couldn't help but chuckle. Castiel looked over at him as the hunter pushed himself to sit up, then splayed his arm out over the pillow beside him in a clear invitation, and Dean wasted no time settling down beside him.

Castiel held him close, a firm arm wrapped around him, and Dean once again turned his head so he could press his face into the crook of the angel's neck while Castiel pressed his mouth to the top of his head, a soft, tender touch, and rubbed his arm as he whispered back, "always."

Dean stretched an arm over him, cautious. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Castiel laughed. Dean didn't get it. "Why didn't you?"

"I spent all this time thinking…" He stopped, and Castiel craned his neck slightly to glance down at him, eyebrows furrowing, and Dean heaved out a quiet sigh. He moved his head back a little and felt Castiel's hand come up in response, cradling the back of his neck. He rested his head back against the angel's palm after a moment, studying him before he continued, "I spent all this time thinking there wasn't a chance. That you couldn't…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Love you?" Castiel sounded somewhat dubious now. Dean could see _that_ look on his face, _that_ look that meant the angel was about to tear into him for his self-deprecating habits. Except this time Dean actually had a valid reason to stop him from doing so - because that wasn't the case.

"Love," he admitted, and suddenly he felt a little silly - and a little _dickish_ \- for even thinking that. But then he remembered Anna, how she had to fall in order to feel. He remembered her words, describing the angels. All her reasons for falling. _Loyalty. Forgiveness. Love._ He remembered falling back on those words every time his doubts started to rise, every time he thought maybe there was something more in the way Castiel looked at him, the way he spoke to him and the things he said. He fell back on those words every time he started to think there was something deeper in this… this _profound bond_ they shared, because those words were the only thing he had to remind him that he couldn't risk it, he couldn't risk falling for an angel, getting _hurt._

When Castiel had become human, lost his grace… when he'd had sex with April… Dean had allowed himself a shred of hope. Wondered if this was it, if this was what it would take. But then there was everything with Gadreel. Then there was that woman he'd started crushing on when he was working at the Gas-N-Sip. Dean had started to wither then, his hopes fading as he began to realize that even when Castiel was capable of love, he wasn't capable of… loving _him._ His hopes faded, but they didn't diminish completely. As long as he could love, there was _hope._

And even that hadn't lasted. Suddenly, Castiel was an angel again, and suddenly there wasn't anything left. Dean was tired of hoping, tired of pining. It made him feel stupid, like some lovesick teenager. So he tried to shut it down altogether, falling back into the familiar, steady rhythm of simply dismissing his thoughts and feelings. And he fell back on those words Anna had said to him, backed up by the proof of her betrayal the moment she'd gotten her Grace back. Angels weren't capable of loving, not completely, not like that. The hunter grimaced, drawn out of his thoughts as Castiel pulled him even closer, with a disgruntled expression on his face. His blue eyes didn't move from Dean's, but it took him a moment to meet his gaze again.

"You thought," the angel began slowly, "that I couldn't… love."

Dean grimaced slightly, searching his gaze for a moment to determine whether or not the angel was actually hurt by that, but Castiel looked more confused than anything. So, the hunter shrugged and leaned his head back, heaving out a sigh. "I mean… yeah. I guess… not so much as _incapable_ of loving, but incapable of really understanding what love… is," he grunted.

Castiel shook his head. Then he nestled closer to him, both arms wrapped firmly around the hunter, and Dean took in a surprised breath as the angel pulled him flush against him and leaned in to press a kiss to his neck. A quiet, pleased sound left his lips before he could stop himself, forcing himself to swallow through heavy breaths and the feeling of Castiel's lips against his skin. He didn't know if it was possible for them to get any closer than they were now, but Dean _ached_ for contact, despite already being wrapped up in the angel's arms. Or maybe he was just aching to stay like this forever. Dean Winchester was a cuddler, always has been and always will be. He needed contact, physical affection, as much of it as he could get - but, of course, he didn't go seeking it out. Cas always seemed to know, though, he mused; the touches on the shoulder, brushing their shoulders together, a hand on his knee when Castiel seemed to sense he needed the comfort the contact brought. And this… this was just everything he'd always wanted, everything he knew he needed. He slipped his hand into the angel's trenchcoat and crossed the other arm under his head above the pillow, letting out a quiet, content sigh.

"Do you wanna know?" Castiel asked suddenly, quietly, against his skin. "The moment I knew I _loved_ you." He didn't pull back this time; Dean hummed the affirmative, and felt Castiel's lips twitch slightly against his neck in response. He was actually somewhat curious, despite himself. Castiel took a deep breath, slow and steady, and finally pulled his head back so he could rest it beside Dean's instead, resting it overtop of the hunter's arm and turning it so to face him again. Dean shifted a little, moving closer until their moments touched, and Castiel offered him a small smile as his gaze met the hunter's. "'If there is anything worth dying for, this is it'," he quoted. It took a second for Dean to remember, a soft laugh escaping him despite himself as he did. "That was the moment I realized I had already fallen for you. Emotionally, I had fallen. And I realized you were right. If there was anything worth it, worth dying for, fighting for…" The angel trailed off, and Dean gazed at him, silent. "You were brave. Braver than I was, than I could have been. Selfless, and caring, and loving, and I fell for you. Literally… I suppose I just couldn't help it."

Dean took a deep breath, unsurprised by how difficult it was. He longed to hear more, but he couldn't stand what he'd already heard. He couldn't begin to fathom it all, not right then. Selfless, caring, loving. That was what Castiel thought of him, how he _saw_ him. He didn't understand, and he wondered if he ever would, if he'd ever be able to see himself the way the angel saw him. Castiel pulled him closer, shifting so their bodies faced one another as well, and trailed a hand up the hunter's back to rest it in the crook between his neck and shoulder, rubbing his thumb lightly over Dean's shoulder. The hunter studied him for a while, thinking, then spoke.

"'We're making it up as we go'." Castiel turned his head slightly, looking up at him, and Dean quirked an eyebrow back at him in response. "When you started fighting them. _Really_ fighting them. Heaven, the angels, God-" Dean snorted despite himself, and Castiel even managed a wry smile in response. "That was when I knew you were… you were it. Sam and I, we've always had each other's backs. We'd have gone through Hell for each other - damn, I mean, I _did,"_ he joked, rolling his eyes. "You didn't really know us, but you were ready to stand up against Heaven and the angels for us anyway. You pulled me out of Hell, you saved me, you fought for me and Sam, and…" He stopped there, suddenly feeling a little too emotional and embarrassed.

But Castiel grinned, and his eyes seemed to light up as he snuggled even closer and leaned in, resting his forehead against Dean's and heaving out a quiet sigh. "I will _always_ fight for you."

Dean clenched his teeth and swallowed. Sometimes he couldn't handle it, the way he felt. He couldn't handle the emotions that burst to life inside of him, such happiness and contentment and love that he felt like he was breaking and yet mending at the same time. Right then was one of those moments. The moment he felt like his love for Cas just might be the death of him. Even though Castiel knew now, even though they were here, like this, sharing this moment together - he always thought it was just the pain of loving someone he knew he couldn't have, but now he realized it was just the love itself. Love was pain, it was torture, but it was also so, _so_ good.

The hunter exhaled, and cuddled closer to the angel instead of responding. Cas just smiled at him as he curled himself against the hunter and tucked his head under Dean's chin, and Dean couldn't help but smile to himself as he curled his arm up a little, with his and Castiel's heads still resting against it, to settle his hand against the back of Castiel's neck, lightly running his fingers through the angel's hair and letting his eyes slip shut. Right then, he was… he was happy. Happier than he felt like he'd been in a really long time. Happy, content… _safe._

When morning finally came, neither of them had slept. Castiel drew circles against Dean's back while the hunter lazily carded his fingers through the angel's hair. He'd have been content to stay like that forever, but as the numbers on the clock blinked back at them in red and Dean felt hunger begin to settle in, he knew they should both probably get up anyway. They didn't really have anything to do, did they? No big bad to face anymore, the world wasn't ending. They could just… they could just _be_. They could just exist. They could just live, for once, really just _live._ He almost considered sending Cas to get him something to eat and some coffee instead, so they could just sit in bed all day and cuddle, but he dismissed the thought with a smile and a quiet chuckle that prompted the angel to twist his head around to look at him, blue eyes imploring.

He really wanted to kiss him then - and he could. He could, so he did. He kissed him gently, carefully sliding one arm underneath the angel and heading himself up a little with his shoulder so that he could roll over on top of Castiel instead. The angel smiled around the kiss as the hunter wrapped his arm around his torso and let the other hand brush against his cheek, and Dean felt Cas's hands steady on his hips, holding him carefully as they pulled apart, grinning.

The hunter chuckled, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Castiel's, and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing and relishing the warmth and the closeness they shared. The happiness he felt was exhilarating. His fears had long fizzled out now; he didn't care about anything else, this wasn't a dream, Castiel _did_ love him and they _were_ doing this and Dean didn't have to just sneak glances every now and again, he didn't have to just _think_ about pushing him up against the wall and kissing the adorable - somewhat sexy - pout from his lips, he didn't have to just imagine how happy he could be. Because this was it. He had what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved. In a way, maybe he'd always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, but right then he just wanted to enjoy what he had. And what he had was Cas.

"I love you," he murmured. "I love you so damn much, Cas."

Cas's lips were still brushing against his own, no longer kissing but simply touching, a sensation that _tickled_ as the angel quirked them upwards into a smile at Dean's words. "I love you too."

Finally, the hunter drew his head back and grinned down at Castiel before finally rolling off of him, dismayed though he was by the way the warmth was practically torn away from him. He was still drunk on the giddiness, though - oh, speaking of drunk, he was starting to get a headache… nothing major, Dean couldn't really remember the last time he'd had an _awful_ hangover and he hadn't exactly been trashed last night, but it was more so just a cloudy feeling, the kind of sensation that lingered in the back of his mind, the ' _gonna happen eventually'_ feeling that definitely promised pain in the near future if Dean didn't get up now to get some coffee.

"Okay," Dean sighed in resignation to his own body, but he smiled still, because at this point it seemed permanently etched onto his face and he couldn't bring himself to fight it. "Coffee time." Glancing down at himself, he realized he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday; he briefly considered changing, but dismissed it after a moment. He could shower and change after he'd had his daily fill of coffee and breakfast. If he didn't get any in his system now, he would burst.

He sat up and Castiel followed him after a moment, but he wrapped his arms around Dean from behind and pulled him backwards just enough to press his mouth against the back of the hunter's neck, and Dean couldn't really bite back the quiet groan that forced itself from his lips.

"Cas-" He huffed out a breathy laugh and turned to swat playfully at the angel, and Castiel grinned, blue eyes sparkling knowingly as he lifted his head only to settle his chin in the space between Dean's neck and shoulder, bending his face slightly to press another kiss to a less-sensitive area near Dean's collarbone, but the feeling of the angel's lips against his skin still did incredible things to the hunter's heart and wasn't really helping the warm feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach either. Even so, he couldn't help but lean his head against Cas's for just a moment, bringing his arms up around himself and settling his hands overtop of where Castiel's rested carefully against his stomach. "I don't wanna move either," he admitted, chuckling, "but if I don't get some coffee and food right now, I might just spontaneously combust or something."

Cas relented after a moment, but not without another kiss before he detangled himself from the hunter, and Dean smirked at him as the angel pulled away and turned to get up. "Very well." Castiel paused and glanced back to add with a tiny smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, "at least let me make you breakfast?" And Dean couldn't help but laugh despite himself, shaking his head.

"You don't have to make me food just because we're-" He stopped for a moment to consider that, staring at Castiel for a moment. What were they now? What the hell did this make them?

"I don't have to," Castiel agreed. "But I want to."

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was nothing but affection even in the way he sighed at the angel, twisting to push himself off of the bed. "It's a nice offer, Cas, but I think maybe you should leave the cooking to me. We don't want another pie incident," he added with a grin, smirking a little to himself at the memory as he adjusted his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair to brush it back a little. Castiel grunted slightly in response, but a smile lingered on his face anyway as he made his way over to the door. Only to pause, blink, and cock his head toward it with a somewhat quizzical expression written across his face. Then his eyes widened and he glanced back at Dean with an almost alarmed expression, and then he just looked confused again as he looked back up at the door, his jaw somewhat slack with surprise. Dean ventured forward a few steps, alarmed, and reached over to his desk to grab one of his knives as he did. "What is it?"

"I don't-" Castiel began, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Your… your mother. I hear your…"

It took Dean a second to react; he felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach, all the air blown out of him, and struggled to suck in a breath almost immediately afterward. He didn't give himself much time to continue; still wielding the knife, but honestly having the feeling he might not need it anymore, he moved forward to stand beside Castiel and opened the door himself; Cas stepped back to allow him to do so, and was right behind him when the hunter made his way down the hall, confused at where to go at first until he, too, heard the voices in the kitchen. Voices. His mother's voice was one of them, Jack's was another - and… and then _John's._

"You're tellin' me the Devil himself is-"

Dean skidded to a stop in the doorway, inhaling sharply at the sight before him. His gaze locked on John out of pure instinct, but then they darted straight to where Mary sat beside him at the table. His mother raised her head and looked up, and her exclamation of "Dean!" cut John off.

"Mom," Dean breathed, pupils shrunk. He dropped the knife and rushed forward as Mary pushed herself to her feet, embracing his mother in a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. He felt like he was about to cry, but he didn't, despite the lump forming in his throat. He swallowed hard in an effort to push it down, reluctant to pull back - but he did so just so he could get a better look at her, to assure himself that it really was _her._ Then he looked up, toward John, then swiveled his head around to look toward Jack. The Nephilim was standing by the fridges, silent as Castiel made his way over to him, holding the knife Dean had discarded on the floor. Dean didn't need to ask, he didn't need to say a damn word; Jack met his gaze and smiled, though it was a hesitant, timid one, but it grew a little wider as his gaze met Dean's, as the hunter allowed his expression to soften just enough to relay the silent 'thank you' he wanted to offer. He'd give him a proper one later, and a hug for good measure, but for now… for now he turned back to his parents, pulling away from Mary only to hug John when his father headed over.

"Are you hungover?" John asked as they pulled apart, raising his eyebrows at his son, and Dean almost wanted to laugh. _That's_ what John asks, seeing him again. He wasn't really surprised, though - the headache had grown a little stronger, nothing unbearable but just enough, he supposed, for John to pick up on some kind of expression on his face, some _look._

"A little," he admitted, looking back down at Mary with a grin. Now he really felt like all this happiness in his system was going to kill him, but it wasn't enough to wipe his smile away.

"I'm just surprised you're awake before Sam," Mary admitted.

"Oh, I didn't…" Dean's gaze flicked toward Castiel for a second, lingering there for a long moment before he tore his eyes away again, but Mary had already turned her head to look. She looked up at Dean again in an instant, looking surprised - Dean's face suddenly felt hotter than about a thousand suns at that moment - then his mother blinked and grinned, and turned her head slightly to look toward Castiel again, her green eyes sparkling with nothing but warmth.

"Hi, Cas."

"Mary," Castiel greeted, smiling slightly. "It's lovely to see you again."

"So this is Castiel," John rumbled, glancing the angel up and down. "The so-called angel."

Dean watched Cas paused, watched him take in the man before him. A cold weight settled in the hunter's gut for a moment, the same kind of feeling he used to get when he knew Sam and John were about to duke it out at any given moment, the dread-filled tension that flushed through him, knowing full well the disasters about to take place. Castiel's smile had wavered, replaced with a serious expression as he, himself, looked the older hunter over before raising his blue eyes to meet John's in a piercing stare, with a curt nod, and replied, "yes, sir."

John continued eyeing him for a moment, then swept his gaze toward Dean; the hunter met his father's gaze silently, watching him. He wasn't afraid of his father. There had been a time where he'd felt some kind of fearful respect for him, but that was as close to terror as he'd ever get to feeling toward John Winchester. A lot of that respect itself had even fizzled out over the years. But he loved the man. He couldn't help it; he was his father. John surprised him after a moment, though, breaking out into a smile as he turned his attention back to Castiel, and Dean let his breath out in a silent sigh of relief as he stepped forward and offered his hand to the angel. "I guess you know who I am, son, but I'm gonna introduce myself anyway. John Winchester." Then, as Castiel stepped forward to take his hand, he added, "so are you two together, or…"

"Dad," Dean started to protest, but Mary's laughter - the sound of her voice, something Dean genuinely never thought he'd be able to hear again - caught him off guard enough to render him silent. Still, he fixed John with a firm glare anyway, but his father's eyes were all for Castiel.

"Uh…" Castiel's eyes flicked toward Dean, but he looked back at John before the hunter could muster any kind of reaction, clearing his throat. "I suppose…? We haven't quite discussed…"

That seemed to be confirmation enough for Jack, though, because he exclaimed, " _finally!"_

"Shut up," Dean told him immediately, albeit not with any real venom or irritation in his voice.

"It _is_ about time, though," Mary cut in, and Dean offered her a somewhat betrayed look, but his gaze trailed away again quickly. Oh, jeez, he couldn't imagine Sam's reaction… oh, jeez, he couldn't imagine Sam's reaction to _this_. Actually, he could. He could already imagine the tears and the hugs and all of that crap. Despite himself, the thought brought a huge grin to his face, looking down at his mother, and Mary smiled back up at him warmly. Then, with a knowing expression, she added, "now sit down, I'll put on some coffee for that hangover. You hungry?" She squeezed his arm, and Dean practically melted into the touch before she pulled away.

"Starving." He struggled to keep his voice steady as he followed her command and sat down at the table, unable to keep his leg from bouncing somewhat anxiously before he managed to clasp a hand over it to hold it still. John took his seat again, crossing his arms over the table and watching Mary - and Dean couldn't help but smile to himself. "So… Jack was filling you in?" He asked after a moment, remembering John's words as he'd entered the kitchen as he looked toward the Nephilim in question. Jack was watching Mary, his lower lip poking out in a guilty pout, and honestly if Dean hadn't already found it in himself to forgive the kid for what had happened, that expression on his face would have been enough to seal the deal alone.

"Yeah. Hey, actually," John's voice seemed to harden. Dean despised the way his shoulders tensed in response, an instinctive reaction. Not one of fear, but preparation to carry out an order that was bound to follow. He forced them to relax again quickly, rolling them back sharply as he turned his gaze back to his father. "He said something about _Lucifer_ being here. Is that true?"

"Ah…" Dean stared at him for a moment, at a loss for words. Not just because of the whole Lucifer thing, but because that just reminded him that Adam was there. Adam and Michael.

John's face dropped, even more serious than before. "Dean?"

Dean hesitated, glancing toward Mary. She had paused what she was doing to turn back to them and listen to the conversation, brows furrowed slightly. He knew how she felt about Lucifer. He also had no idea how to explain the Adam situation to her - to either of them, for that matter. Now that he was thinking about it, even, he couldn't believe the conversation had never come up. Something he kicked himself for, for really not even thinking about his younger brother at all. He knew it was Chuck, it was all Chuck, but it still made his blood boil all the same. Chuck's influence or not, he should have done something, remembered something, said something. Something should have been off, _felt_ off, and he was ashamed and disgusted to say it hadn't.

" _Dean,"_ John spoke again, a little sharper.

Dean didn't mean to snap - but he did, and he didn't really make too much of an effort to keep himself from doing so. Fifteen years ago he would've said 'yes sir' without meeting his father's gaze; now he looked him in the eyes and said, " _yes._ Now hold on, let me _think_ ," before he ripped his gaze away again and focused on the table, silently contemplating the situation.

Finally, taking a deep breath and shaking his head, he simply decided to be open about it. They were gonna find out about Adam anyway. Lucifer wasn't their biggest concern - hell, he wasn't even _a_ concern and Dean didn't really intend to treat him like one even for his parents' sake. They'd come around to understand what he had after he gave them the whole story. "So, uh…" The hunter ran his tongue over his lips and looked up at his parents again, his somewhat shocked-looking father and his now worried, protective-looking mother. He glanced between them for a moment, looking toward Castiel briefly - who had stepped in to make the coffee himself - and then toward Jack, who looked somewhat helpless, before looking back down. "Yeah, Lucifer's here. Adam's here, too," he added, simply, meeting John's gaze for a second.

John stared at him for a moment, clearly not understanding - then his eyes widened at the realization, while Mary's expression shifted to one of confusion, looking back and forth. "Adam?"

John looked like a deer in headlights. Dean took a little bit of pity on him.

"Adam…" He stared at his father for a moment, then looked up at Mary. He knew his mother. He knew she wouldn't be upset with John for having another kid with another woman after she'd died. Hell, nobody could expect that man to stay celibate, to never love another woman for the rest of his life. Mary herself, Dean knew, had been pretty close to having a relationship with Bobby - if not apocalypse world Bobby, mind you - so it was something he knew she'd get.

Explaining how he and Sam had just left him in the Cage to rot, and turn into a demon… explaining that to _both_ of them, for that matter, was going to be even harder. It was something he wished he could blame on Chuck, but that was a whole other can of worms to open.

"Adam's our brother." Dean took a breath to steady himself, and Mary looked confused for half a second before the realization set in, and her eyes widened as she looked toward John, then back at Dean, who continued quickly, "we didn't mention him because- … yeah, there's not really a good reason to not have mentioned him. I don't know what Jack's told you already, but Adam was down in Hell. In the Cage." Now he shied away from his father's gaze, not wanting to look, to see whatever he might see written on his face. "With Michael, the archangel - he's here too. He's still possessing Adam, but they've got this weird thing going on, sharing control and everything. And, uh…" He wondered if this last part might be a little bit too much, with the way Mary's eyes flickered back and forth as she fought to register the information he'd already given her, but he steadied himself again, cleared his throat and took the plunge. "Adam's a demon."

A somewhat choked sound escaped John, though his mouth was clamped shut. Dean finally risked a glance in his direction, but there wasn't any anger or judgement in his gaze, just shock. Even when he finally spoke, his tone wasn't accusatory. Just confused, worried, _stunned._ "Hold… hold on a moment. Adam was in the Cage with- you boys didn't tell me when you-"

It took Dean a second to realize what he was referencing, and he couldn't disguise a flicker of surprise at the fact that John even remembered that he'd come back to life once before at all.

"You didn't _mention_ this?" Mary demanded, and maybe she didn't mean it, but there wasn't really any way to make that sound unaccusing. Dean couldn't help but flinch a little despite himself, but he struggled to steel himself again even then, against what might follow next. Honestly, he knew damn well he deserved that. He knew damn well he deserved to be chewed out for that for the rest of his life. However the hell Adam had managed to forgive him and Sam for just abandoning him in Hell for all those years was beyond him - he couldn't fathom that.

Castiel, however, was less eager to let Dean sit there and take the blame, it seemed, because he was quick to jump in. "In his defense, he was being heavily influenced and controlled by Chuck - God - at the time. He made them forget about Adam's existence entirely."

Mary's surprise fizzled out to dismay at once. Jack must have told them about Chuck.

"It's not their fault," the Nephilim added hurriedly.

Dean sighed a little, finally glancing back up at his mother. She hadn't looked angry or disappointed, and whatever was left of the sting from her words fizzled out when she looked back down at him with nothing but sorrow in her expression, pain for the boy she didn't even know, hadn't even met, for the child the love of her life had fathered after she'd died. He couldn't help but wonder how she and Adam might interact, how good his mother might be for him. He could already see it in her eyes now, her willingness - no, her _desperation -_ to take Adam in as if he were her own son just the same. That alone made his heart swell, with nothing but love and pride for his mother; he had to look away before he could start tearing up. "So there's that story," he murmured, clearing his throat. "Back to Lucifer. Yes, he's here, and no, he's not dangerous."

"Son," John began carefully, "we're gonna debate this whole 'the Devil isn't dangerous' thing in a second and that's fine with me, but you gotta give me a minute to process all of this first."

Despite himself, Dean laughed, but he nodded and relaxed back in his seat. He looked up when Castiel came over to him with a mug full of coffee, and offered a smile from the angel as he accepted the drink, and he was both surprised and pleased when Castiel leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth - quick and simple, as if it was perfectly natural - before he pulled away and headed back over to the fridges. Dean watched him, then looked away and stifled a smile by taking a sip of his coffee, and pretended not to notice Mary doing the same.


	2. Sam

Sam… couldn't sleep.

He tried, of course. He must have laid there for hours with his eyes shut, trying to sleep, but the problem was that he couldn't _keep_ them shut. He found himself blinking up at the ceiling instead, wondering how and when he'd even opened his eyes and trying in vain to force them shut again. He wasn't drunk, hardly really _buzzed_ as it was, but his mind was just foggy enough to give off the sense that something was wrong. Not sleeping wasn't really rare for the hunter - recently especially - but even though the threat had passed and they had won, Sam couldn't help but wonder if it was really over. Chuck was gone, yeah, and he was their main problem, but there were still _other_ things. He found his thoughts trailing to Lucifer more often than not; he tried not to think of the Devil as a problem, he really did. He knew he was… innocent, mostly. Learning that he hadn't actually tortured him in the Cage had been an oddly pleasant surprise, and it had helped him loosen up toward Lucifer a lot more. But he couldn't shake his wariness.

He did have a good reason, he mused, as he rolled over onto his stomach and stuffed his arms under his pillow, pressing half of his face into it with a sigh. After everything he'd been through… and the Cage wasn't all of the problem - but Sam would be lying if he said it wasn't a big part of it. There were still so many things Lucifer had done, things Sam knew logically were beyond the Devil's control. Maybe one day, he tried to convince himself, one day he'd be comfortable with it. With him. Maybe one day he'd be able to forgive and forget. He was already trying, already heading down that road. He didn't want to live in bitterness, and fear, and wariness. And he didn't really think it was the forgiving thing he had a problem with, really… just the _forgetting_.

Sam took in a breath and sighed, releasing it slowly as if doing so would drain the rest of his tension. It didn't work, and it didn't really make him feel any better, but his body itself seemed to relax a little bit more on instinct. He was just a bundle of frayed nerves at that moment, which he supposed were just hunter's instincts kicking in. Thinking about Lucifer often did that to him.

He sighed again, an oddly soft sound that didn't quite betray the self-loathing building up through the hunter's veins right then. Lucifer had been dealt as bad a hand as the rest of them.

Sam knew that. _Logically_ , he knew that. When his emotions failed to cooperate with him, he tended to try and look at things from a more logical perspective, to step back from his feelings and work through it like it was some kind of puzzle or a test or a case. He filtered through the options, things he knew as facts and things that had been warped over the years, things his mind had conjured up to make sense of the things that had happened to him in Hell. Lucifer wasn't the villain. He had been, Sam would admit. He'd been the worst one they'd faced. But that was a long time ago, and knowing what he knew now, Sam found it… almost impossible to hold the Devil at fault for the things he'd done back then. Chuck had written him into their story as the villain, something far beyond Lucifer's control. And these past few weeks, he'd seen a side of Lucifer he didn't ever think he would. He was softer, but not sickly sweet and condescendingly gentle like he used to be when he was trying to convince Sam to let him in. It seemed genuine this time, like… like it had been when he and Chuck had almost made up. Lucifer had proven then that he was _capable_ of being better. Hell, he'd only slipped when…

Sam grimaced and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, shaking his head at himself. He'd only gone back to his old ways when Chuck had just up and left with Amara, without any concern for his son. Whatever he might feel about Lucifer, Sam couldn't help but be angry on the Devil's behalf for the way Chuck had treated him. In a way, he supposed, maybe he could relate to it. He'd be lying if he said that thought didn't scare him a little. But of all the things that he could relate to Lucifer about, daddy issues were probably the best thing on that list, if he was honest.

Sighing, the hunter cracked an eye open again and frowned. He was too tired for this right now.

Rolling back onto his back, he shoved his arms above his head, wincing as he accidentally slammed his hands into his headboard a little too hard. He stayed still for a moment as his knuckles throbbed, a more irritating sensation than painful, before scooting himself down on the bed just enough to stuff his arms up under his head. He stayed like that for a moment, listening to the sound of his own breathing and looking up at the ceiling. His feet twitched, toes curling, shifting his legs every so often. He could hear his heartbeat, _feel_ his heartbeat, when he laid too still. Moving helped stifle the feeling. He felt hot, and tired, and really not at all… happy. He didn't know why, he couldn't explain it. They'd won the battle against Chuck, they were free and they could live and do whatever they wanted now. He couldn't explain what he felt. Not unhappiness, not really. He wasn't sad or depressed or anything. He was just… not content.

Maybe it was just too soon after all the recent events. Maybe contentment would take a little while to settle in. The hunter turned his head slightly, looking toward the door, then let out a sigh and let his head turn the other way, settling his cheek against his arm and staring at the wall. Sleeping wasn't an option. He felt too restless to just lay here all night. He couldn't _do_ anything. He could head to the library, maybe, go read… finish The Art Of War. Yet he didn't think he had the patience to sit and read for hours, and he didn't think he was awake enough to focus on it. He was tired, he wanted to sleep, but sleep wasn't coming. His buzzing nerves wouldn't let it.

His chest ached, a painfully cold feeling, and he swallowed it down as his heart stuttered in response, squirming slightly and curling his toes before forcing them all upwards again. His heart didn't calm, just quieted enough to allow Sam a brief moment of peace from the constant pounding against his chest. The base of his spine continued to tingle with that cold feeling though, creeping around to encircle his stomach in a vice-like grip he couldn't wriggle free from.

He looked at the clock and swallowed, stifling another sigh.

For a while, he stayed like that, tossing and turning and trying to keep his mind from wandering, but he couldn't stop focusing long enough to fall asleep. Eventually, when the sound of laughter - _Dean's_ laughter, why the hell was he awake right now? - startled him out of what might have been the beginning of sleep, Sam simply decided to call it quits and get up for the day. He'd have a little extra coffee today, it was fine, maybe he'd take some sleeping pills when night rolled back around and go to bed early. So, begrudgingly, the hunter rolled over once more and pushed himself to sit up, sliding out of bed and getting up to begin his daily morning routine.

He made his bed, brushed his teeth - he could take a shower later, he decided - and left the room. The voices coming from the kitchen gave him pause, if only for a few seconds. He heard Dean's laughter, he heard Jack's voice, and… he could've sworn he heard Mary and John.

The hunter froze, just for a second, and continued forward slowly.

His legs felt weak once he'd reached the doorway. John and Dean were sitting at the table, Dean with a cup of coffee and John lightly twirling a piece of bacon, seemingly without any intention to eat it in the near future. Mary was leaning against the fridge beside Jack - who was as stiff as a board right then - and Sam wasn't sure what part of the scene surprised him more, the fact that his parents were there or the fact that Castiel was leaning over Dean from behind his older brother's chair, one arm wrapped around the hunter and the other reaching over his shoulder to grab the coffee. Dean swatted at him lightly, seemingly more playfully than anything, and Sam damn near fainted on the spot when Castiel pressed a quick kiss to the side of Dean's neck to distract him while he swiped the coffee from him, leaning back to take a sip of it.

Sam drew in a breath and opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. He didn't even know where to begin. His gaze was drawn back to Mary after a moment; while, undoubtedly, he was going to be talking to his brother about this thing with Cas later, the fact that his mother was there, alive, rendered him more speechless than anything else did at that moment. And there was also John, who Sam was both happy and surprised to see, but seeing Mary again made his throat close up, made his eyes sting. He swallowed back the lump rising in his throat, clearing it. "Mom?"

Mary turned her head at once, and John and Dean were quick to cut off and look up. Castiel, still with his arms around Dean, set the coffee cup down and straightened up a little more. Jack took the chance to take a few steps away from Mary while she was distracted, while the woman pushed herself forward and walked over to Sam. He ventured further into the room to meet her.

"Sammy," she breathed, pulling him into a hug. Sam couldn't stop the tears then, despite his best attempts to blink them back and stifle the pressure in his chest. He sucked in a shuddering breath and ducked his head to bury his face into her shoulder, feeling her hand on the back of his neck as she held him closer and offered a light squeeze. They stayed like that for a moment - mostly because Sam wasn't quite ready to let go - but when he did, he pulled back slowly, carefully, cautious as if his mother was made of glass and he could break her with any wrong move. Though, to be fair, he'd always felt like that - like he could move wrong, say something wrong, or just blink and she'd be gone. The hunter swallowed again, rubbing at his eyes.

"You're, uh…" Sam let his gaze trail up to where John was. His father smiled warmly at him, setting the bacon down and pushing himself to walk over, and Mary shuffled to the side to allow the older hunter to pull Sam into a hug of his own. Sam didn't hold on as long this time - not because he didn't want to, but because he knew his father probably didn't. But he held on for as long as John did, a little less careful but still just as happy to see him. "You're both- how did-"

Mary's gaze darted toward Jack at the same time Sam realized it, and the words died on his tongue at once as he looked toward the Nephilim, taking in his cautious but happy expression.

"Jack," he breathed out, surprised and proud and _grateful_ and wanting to hug him, too.

So, he did. He eased himself past his parents and embraced the Nephilim - his _son_ \- tightly. Jack hugged him back, still careful, but Sam felt the boy squeeze him briefly as they hugged, and he returned the gesture gently before pulling away, giving him a warm smile. Jack's eyes were glistening, unshed tears on the surface, but he was smiling broadly at the hunter anyway. Finally, something warm, content, _happy_ began to stir in Sam's gut, a hot rush of joy that left him floating for a second. He held onto it for as long as he could, mostly because he didn't know if it was going to last. But it was there for the moment, and after the night that he'd had, Sam was more than happy to let it linger. He clasped a hand over Jack's shoulder and blinked his own tears back, offering the boy another smile and a small nod before he turned away once more.

Dean caught his gaze and grinned as John took his seat again, lifting his cup toward Sam briefly before taking a sip. Sam watched him as he leaned his head back to rest it against Castiel's shoulder, and couldn't bite back a grin on time, watching the two for a moment. As weird as it was seeing them so openly affectionate with one another, it was only weird because Sam was so used to the sneaky glances and longing looks and lingering touches. It was different, but it was a good kind of different Sam knew he could get used to very quickly. "You're up early," Dean commented, and paused, arching his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, earlier than usual."

"Yeah, I…" Sam hesitated for a moment, breath caught as he stood still and debated on what he was about to say. But he said it anyway, letting his breath out in a sharp exhale and continuing, "couldn't sleep." He turned and swept his gaze around, heading over to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup, and bit back a tired smile when he felt Mary's worried gaze lingering on him. Not that he liked being worried over, he'd rather not concern them with his problems if he could help it, but the fact that Mary was there to worry about him at all right then overpowered that.

He could feel Dean's gaze, too; the familiar stare, the concern his brother wouldn't voice. Sam had to stifle another smile, pouring his coffee and staring down into the mug for a moment before he turned to one of the fridges to grab the milk. Silence fell over the room for a while, aside from Castiel and Dean mumbling back and forth to each other, 'give me some', 'go get your own', 'I don't want my own I just want a sip'. Mary eventually retreated over to where John was sitting, taking a seat beside him and pulling his plate toward her to finish his bacon off herself. Sam glanced over at where the rest of the food still sat on the stove, eggs and bacon and toast; he wasn't too hungry, but with the way Dean was staring at him, he figured if he didn't take something, his brother definitely _would_ speak up, so he ended up grabbing a piece of toast.

"Alright," John sighed suddenly as Sam made his way over to sit down at the table, taking a seat beside Dean and Cas. His father leaned forward, crossing his arms. "About this Lucifer thing…"

"He's staying in the bunker," Dean told him simply.

Sam felt a flicker of surprise, just for a second, but it diminished quickly enough. It was hard to tell without John being around, but his brother had grown considerably the past fifteen years. Now, though, Sam could see it clearly, and he could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Dean wasn't John's good little soldier anymore. He didn't tense under John's gaze or say 'sir' after every sentence, and he looked John dead in the eyes as he spoke, with a calm certainty and confident air that made it clear he wasn't open to suggestions or asking permission. Sam wasn't angry with their father anymore; there were still certain things Sam knew they'd probably disagree on, especially with the stunned and somewhat irritated expression that flitted across John's face, but he wasn't angry. Still, he didn't think he'd ever been prouder of his older brother than he was at that moment. Dean had changed. Thinking about it now, Sam realized with a smile, they both had. Yes, he was very content right then…

"Dean," John began.

"Dad," Sam interrupted before he could stop himself, mostly on instinct. Dean didn't seem to mind, busy retrieving his coffee from Castiel to take another sip. "Really, it's, uh… it's okay. Trust me, I was a little tense about it at first too, but…" He trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I don't know how much they told you about Chuck- uh, God, but Lucifer isn't the-"

"Jack told us about the God thing." John shook his head slightly. He looked a little confused, as if he still didn't get the whole thing; Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, raising his eyebrows.

"Great." Dean leaned forward slightly, putting the mug down. He lifted his arms and weaved them around Castiel's after a moment, hooking them over the angel's lightly and reaching down to grab his hands. Sam couldn't keep himself from staring - not that he was really trying not to. "Then coming to terms with the whole Lucifer-isn't-really-the-villain-and-never-was thing shouldn't be too hard for you. I mean, hell, if Sam could do it." His older brother inclined his head toward him lightly, and Sam sank back a little in his seat despite himself. It was a valid point to make, of course, but the hunter couldn't help but question if he'd really done anything. He'd done what he had to do, the right thing to do, but did it really mean anything - giving Lucifer a chance - if he couldn't shake the uneasiness, the wariness, the fear? If he couldn't stop remembering the bad things that Lucifer had done, rather than focusing on the good things?

"It's the _Devil_ ," John insisted. He leaned forward a little himself, but when Mary reached out and placed a hand on his arm, John's entire demeanor seemed to shift. Sam couldn't help but stare, somewhat startled, as his father seemed to immediately relax under his wife's touch. The stormy expression on his face lightened considerably, all traces of anger gone as he looked over at the woman beside him. Mary smiled, somehow both comforting and chiding all at once.

"John. At least hear them out." Mary offered John's arm a light squeeze, throwing a smile toward her sons. "I'm not exactly part of Lucifer's fan club, but if you guys think this is the right call…"

John sighed, but he sank back in his seat. And that was that.

Sam exchanged another glance with Dean and saw his own amusement written clearly across his older brother's face. In an interesting turn of events, it seemed they had someone in their corner who could shoot their stubborn, bull-headed father down with a simple look and touch. Sam took another bite of his toast and tried not to laugh. John was whipped. He was _whipped._ This might be one of the best days of his life for a few reasons, but that in particular was going to stay high up on the list. John Winchester had one weakness, and it was Mary Winchester. And Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't planning on taking the chance to exploit that now that he could; he kind of wanted to see how far he could push John now that Mary was there. Well… he'd always been one for testing John's limits. Now he had a valid reason to keep doing it, since he couldn't really use being a rebellious, angsty teenager as an excuse anymore.

"Lucifer's just staying here for… however long?" Dean raised his eyebrows and rested his head back on Castiel's shoulder again, while the angel leaned down further to wrap his arms a little tighter around the hunter. "Honestly, I don't know if he's even planning to stay. If not, fine. If so, fine." He glanced at Sam, as if for confirmation, and continued on when he nodded, "he's not causing any trouble and he's not hurting anybody, and we've already planned out karaoke nights, and honestly it's really funny seeing him and Adam fight. So, point is, he can stay here."

"He and Adam fight?" John managed to look a little worried, but Sam couldn't help but laugh between bites of his toast, remembering the wrestling match that had taken place in the bunker.

"Cage wrestling." Dean rolled his eyes. "It's some weird thing with him and Adam and Michael. I don't know. And really, I don't wanna know. I just think it's funny watching my baby brother put the Devil in a headlock." At this, Sam had to smile to himself. The words 'baby brother' seemed to come from Dean so naturally, talking about Adam. Honestly, it felt natural. Despite everything, and the guilt Sam still couldn't shake regarding everything with Adam, he was their baby brother and Sam loved him, and he knew Dean loved him. They were both trying to be better brothers, now that they could without Chuck dictating their lives. The hunter hummed softly to himself and finished off the rest of his toast, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning back with a smile.

"Speaking of Lucifer, he's gonna have one _hell_ of a hangover."

Dean and Jack laughed a little at that, and even Castiel snorted out a chuckle.

"Man, so are Adam and Michael," Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not looking forward to a hungover Adam. Think we can put him in a devil's trap 'til it's over?" He rolled his head around to look at Sam and the hunter shot his older brother a _look_ , raising his eyebrows slightly at him. Dean shrugged in response and leaned back further into Cas's arms, grinning widely at Sam. "No? No. You're right. The archangel thing could cancel that out. Holy fire instead, then."

"Dean," Sam reprimanded, but he couldn't bite back a grin anyway. "No."

"He's gonna rip our heads off," Dean told him. "You _know_ he's gonna rip our heads off."

"Michael won't let him." Sam honestly had more faith in that than anything. He knew Adam didn't hate them anymore, but he also knew his grumpy brother and a hangover were a recipe for disaster. Even Sam had some issues not being snappy when he was hungover; Adam was already snappy, and Dean was right about one thing. Sam was _not_ looking forward to that.

"And the Michael thing…" John started.

"He's not dangerous either. And I'd avoid saying anything to Adam about it," Sam added quickly, glancing over at his father and offering a half-smile. "Or, uh… he'll definitely rip your head off."

Dean smirked. "Adam versus Dad. Who would win?"

"Adam," Sam said immediately.

Castiel nodded his agreement. "Adam."

"Definitely Uncle Adam," Jack chimed in.

John blinked, looking a little put-out, at least until Mary scooted over and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into a side-hug. But Sam couldn't keep himself from laughing when his mother lifted her head and mouthed 'Adam' over her husband's head while he was distracted.


	3. Adam

Adam took his time waking up, and he took his time opening his eyes when he did. His head ached as soon as consciousness hit him; he clenched his teeth and fought his way through a pained groan as he forced his eyes open. They were in the park again; Adam cringed at the light coming from above him, immediately taking the chance to press his eyes shut once again. He turned his head to the side instead, craning his neck against the arms crossed under his head, and cracked one eye open hesitantly. Michael was beside him, sprawled out on his stomach with his head buried into his arms. He was still asleep - but only at first, it seemed. He shifted when Adam did, and the demon winced sympathetically when the archangel sucked in a sharp gasp and pressed his face further into his arms. His thoughts sped up, a brief flicker of panic igniting in the archangel's chest before it melted away, and everything blurred in pain. Of course, Michael had never had a hangover before. Adam had - though, not quite _this_ awful.

He decided not to offer their usual morning greeting for now. Instead, the demon forced his elbows underneath him and propped himself up against them, sucking in a deep breath and keeping his head ducked so he could avoid looking at the very _real-_ looking sun above them. He wavered with dizziness as soon as he was propped up, even the slightest bit. His stomach churned with nausea, painful in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He could have definitely done without the headache; everything felt hazy beyond recognition and he couldn't _think._ Anger stirred in his chest briefly, tame, all things considered. He breathed in through his teeth and let the air out in a quiet groan, then allowed himself to relax back into the grass again.

Michael seemed to have recovered for the most part, heaving himself up onto his side. Adam watched his hand tremble as he lifted it into the air, fingers poised to snap. The pain melted away the moment he did, and Adam heaved out a gentle, grateful sigh while Michael let out a low, guttural groan as he flopped onto his back and clasped his hand over his face, relieved..

"We can't get that drunk anymore," Adam breathed, carefully sorting through his memories of the night before. They were still hazy, colored _drunk_ , but he remembered glimpses of Lucifer and karaoke and a taxi ride. He shook his head to himself, somewhat baffled, then looked over at Michael. He seemed to be recovering still, from the long-faded pain. The archangel looked more than a little perturbed, clearly disturbed by the experience; Adam couldn't help but chuckle to himself, quietly, when he realized Michael was silently wondering to himself how humans could stand such pure, raw pain like that. "To tell you the truth, Mikey, I have no fucking idea," he admitted, heaving himself up again and shaking his head. "I've gotten hungover before a few times," he recalled. "Once when I was fifteen, and a few times with some 'friends' in college…"

Michael furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at him, squinting his eyes slightly as if he was scared the headache would return as soon as he lifted his head, but he was quick to relax again when he realized it wouldn't. "Don't humans have some kind of age restriction for alcohol?"

"Mhm." Adam cracked a toothy grin. "Never said I've gotten hangovers _legally."_

Michael laughed, the sound laced with exhaustion and fondness as he finally forced himself to sit up, balancing himself on his arms. He winced, and sighed, tipping his head back slightly.

"Still dizzy?"

"Still dizzy," Michael breathed.

"Yeah." Adam pushed himself off of his elbows, propping himself up with his hands instead and straightening his arms out as much as possible. He ran his tongue over his lips, practically tasting the alcohol on his lips and breath. He definitely wanted a shower and he _definitely_ needed to brush his teeth after last night. The demon shook his head at himself a few times, ignoring his own lingering dizziness. All things considered, that and the nausea, they were the more bearable parts of the hangover. The only thing that bothered him was the constant pounding pain in his skull, and Michael had, thankfully, remedied that for the both of them. Adam risked a glance up at the sky, rubbing his forehead slightly and relaxing when the sunlight didn't make him feel like his eyes were being forcefully shoved back further into his damn skull.

Michael ended up sinking sideways against him, much to the demon's amusement. He could feel the archangel's tiredness; not the power-drained exhaustion they'd both grown used to, just a sleepy kind of feeling, one that clearly meant the archangel had no intention of leaving right then if he could help it. Adam on the other hand smelled like booze and sweat and he could feel it sticking to his skin, and that was one sensation he couldn't stand. The demon sighed, lifting an arm around Michael carefully and offering a light squeeze. "I'm gonna go take a shower. You…" He snorted out a quiet chuckle. "Either go back to sleep or figure out some way to wake up."

The archangel murmured a quiet, unintelligible response that Adam wasn't sure whether to take as agreement or disagreement, but he merely rolled his eyes to himself and pulled away. "Go ahead," Michael sighed after a moment, laying back down. He rolled back over onto his back and buried his face into his arms, and Adam heard him let out a quiet, muffled yawn as he did. The demon shook his head and bit back a smile, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll join you soon," the archangel added sleepily, turning his head to peer up at him again. "Last night was crazy."

"Yeah." Adam grinned, raising his eyebrows at the angel. "You had a lot of fun."

Michael nodded slightly in agreement, an oddly adorable tired smile written across his face. Adam couldn't help but chuckle at his best friend. "Mm. Yeah. It was fun… but crazy, too."

"Well, we've already agreed to do it again," Adam mused. "Maybe not get so drunk, though."

"Right." Michael heaved out a gentle sigh. "I underestimated…"

Adam snickered, ducking his head. "Oh, boy, do I know it."

"I do enjoy the taste of whiskey, though," Michael commented, and Adam lifted his head slightly to peer at him, somewhat surprised. Whiskey itself… he could tolerate it, but he didn't like it. It was too bitter, too strong for him to like it. "It's good. I like how strong it is," Michael admitted.

Adam nodded, understanding. "'Cause you can taste it."

"I can't taste a lot of things." Michael sighed again, so much exhaustion expressed in the simple gesture, the way his shoulders slumped as he curled up. "It's kind of like… like you, with salt."

Adam smiled a little to himself, amused. Yeah, the salt thing. Well, he could understand that. And he was happy to let Michael have as much whiskey as he wanted, within reason. Hell, he liked drunk Michael as it was. The archangel was fun - well, he was fun anyway, but there was just something about how he acted when he was drunk. No hesitation, no fear, no reluctance. He just dove right in. Of course, Adam knew Michael didn't need beer to be brave like that, but he still encouraged anything that could bring out that side in his best friend. It was nice to see Michael loosening up and having fun, genuine fun, without letting his worries get in the way. The demon had a feeling that would be happening more and more now - with or without alcohol.

Michael hummed softly in agreement, then stated, "I liked karaoke."

Adam smirked. "Good. Because we're still doing karaoke nights."

Michael chuckled, a tired but happy sound, and buried himself into his arms again with a content sigh. Adam watched him for a moment, softening slightly, then tilted his head back and looked up at the sky with a soft, content sigh of his own, closing his eyes and taking control again.

He wasted no time getting up, despite the heaviness he could feel in his bones, the lingering exhaustion that made him want to lay back down and curl up in the park with Michael again. But he knew he needed to shower, so he resolved to ignore it for now. Instead, he shifted his focus to gathering clothes. He decided against his suits for now - in an odd way they felt too formal to wear around the bunker now - instead pulling out a few T-shirts and jeans he'd stolen from the stores in Minnesota. He frowned at the tuxes, just for a moment, and couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. He really needed to get rid of those sooner rather than later, before Bela returned from wherever the hell she was. The demon settled on a plain black shirt and blue jeans for the time being, picking out what he needed before retreating into the bathroom to take his shower. He took his time under the water for the most part, letting it practically wash away the rest of his exhaustion. The sticky feeling on his skin faded, a content smile appearing on his face briefly.

He dried off and got dressed once he'd finished, and was still in the process of drying his hair as he left the bathroom when he felt Michael finally rise up to settle into control beside him again. The archangel was still a little sleepy, yet awake and energized at the same time now that the shock from the hangover had seemingly passed; the demon smirked a little to himself and let the towel rest around their neck, hanging down over their shoulders, as he opened the door.

"Breakfast time," he noted, tilting their head. "I smell… is that bacon…?"

"Mmmhm." Michael opened their mouth, turned their head slightly, and seemed to freeze.

It hit them both at once, the voices in the kitchen. Adam didn't immediately recognize what had caused Michael to stiffen, if he was completely honest. He heard Sam and Dean and Castiel and Jack, and then he heard a female's voice, and then the lower-pitched rumble of a male's. Of course, he didn't have to recognize it to just instinctively know who it was. It was impossible not to; the name jumped into Michael's mind as if it had been permanently ingrained in there, and Adam couldn't just ignore that. Still, it took him a few seconds to register exactly what that meant; he raised their eyebrows slightly, allowing them to inch further and further up their forehead before they fell slack again in a somewhat startled expression, tightening his grip on the towel around their neck as he stepped forward and peered down the hall toward where the main room was, where it broke off into the kitchen. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

It had been a long time - a damn long time - since he'd heard John Winchester's voice. The emotions that flared to life in response were dizzying, startling enough to almost make his knees buckle, and he was glad Michael had chosen that time to take full control for the most part to steady them again. The demon almost retreated, but he didn't. It went without saying that he had many conflicting, confusing feelings toward his father - if you could really call John his father. Honestly, he'd been no more of a dad to him than a sperm donor might have - and most of those feelings were negative ones. Michael braced them against the doorframe while Adam shook himself, furiously, and struggled to focus through the sea of anger threatening to swallow him whole. He'd thought he was past this, but he also couldn't bring himself to be too hard on himself for it. John Winchester was a bastard, an asshole, and a shitty excuse for a parent. Adam hadn't even seen his face yet, but he already wanted to punch him bloody. Still, a part of him protested. A part of him protested because, at this point, Adam couldn't be entirely sure what part of John's personality had truly been his own - and which parts had been Chuck's influence, Chuck's intervention, Chuck's writing, _Chuck's_ plot. Another rush of anger engulfed him, which he once again made an attempt to fight down but not quite stifle. Just focus, relax.

Michael was, as always, patient as could be. He leaned them against the doorframe and counted down in their head, drowning out the demon's red-hot fury with a calm mantra of numbers and forcing them to breathe in through their nose, out through their mouth. It wasn't too long until he was more or less focusing on the archangel, allowing his soul to sink further into the gentle, buzzing comfort of Michael's Grace. His anchor, through and through; the demon truly didn't know where he'd be without the archangel, but that was nothing new. Michael waited for him to collect himself, wrapping their arms around them and offering a soft squeeze as if he were hugging the demon, and Adam found himself squeezing back slightly, reassuringly.

The archangel stood, that much was evident. He understood - at least in a way. The problem was that nobody was making Chuck do anything; Chuck had never been innocent, there had never even been a question about that. But Adam had to figure out what the case with John was, and whether he'd even be able to - whether he even _wanted_ to. The demon growled a little and squeezed their eyes shut for a second, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to think, but he found that a lot of his anger toward the man, once he'd calmed down to think about this rationally, had diminished into a startling amount of indifference. Indifference, but… contempt.

"Dammit," Adam sighed, blinking their eyes open again to glare at the wall. This wasn't end-of-the-world stuff and he was well aware of that, but he felt oddly inconvenienced by this. The more he thought about it, though - the things they had been through recently - Adam couldn't help but feel somewhat calmed by the realization that this truly _wasn't_ an end-of-the-world situation. It still sucked ass, but whatever happened would happen and Adam would figure out a way to get through it regardless. He didn't care for John Winchester.

Michael squeezed them again, lighter this time. His voice was low, quiet and soothing. "He might be staying…" The words were more of a warning than anything, and that caught Adam's attention for a second. The archangel had no intentions of trying to push Adam to reconcile with his father; of course, it wasn't quite the opposite. Michael wouldn't actively stand in the way of it, Adam knew the archangel wasn't capable of that even if he tried to be. But it wasn't like with Sam and Dean, in which Michael had pressed him, albeit gently, to try and forgive them, because he deserved to have his brothers in his life. Even when Adam hadn't quite cared for it - even when his anger toward the Winchesters had started to fizzle out to indifference, Michael had still tried to coax him to pursue a deeper relationship with his half-brothers. Maybe he knew there wasn't a point in trying - or maybe he could tell the difference between the hatred Adam had harbored for his brothers and the hatred that he harbored for his father. The archangel smiled dryly for a moment, then murmured, "brothers are one thing… fathers are overrated."

Adam couldn't help but laugh. That was something they could agree on - Adam had never really wanted a father figure. It would have been nice, maybe, to have some help around the house for his mother, to have someone pick up the slack. But the way he'd grown up, he couldn't really complain about. He didn't have the right to complain. Kate had done everything in her power to support them on her own. And then she had died - she had died, been _killed_ by _monsters_ , because John hadn't been there. Because he couldn't be bothered. Because they had never been his family, not really. Adam had been a stand-in, and John hadn't really shown any interest in Kate. He showed up once a year to take Adam to a baseball game - beyond that, there was nothing. Adam would have much rather have been home waiting for his mother to get off work.

Of course, that was a _long_ time ago. He would always be angry about that, but there were still… other things. He was angry that John had seemingly thought he could be a part of Adam's life, no matter how small that part was, and keep them safe at the same time. He didn't know why those monsters had attacked him and Kate, but knowing what he knew about his father now, he could only assume it had something to do with John. The fact that they'd known him. The fact that Adam was unlucky enough to have been his son. The demon took a deep breath and tipped their head back, somewhat resigned for a moment, then narrowed their eyes slightly.

"Fine," he murmured. "I don't care."

Michael was silent for a moment, eyebrows creasing in worry. He opened their mouth to respond, but Adam was quick to do so before he could. "Seriously, I really don't care. The guy's not my father. He doesn't exactly mean anything to me. As long as he stays out of my way…"

He didn't need to finish. Michael got it. The archangel puffed their cheeks out and nodded, but he still seemed rather concerned. "Okay," he agreed hesitantly. "If you're… okay with this."

Adam nodded, and paused, turning their head slightly. "... are _you_ okay with this?"

"Yeah," Michael affirmed at once. "It doesn't really make a difference to me. I just-" He stopped. Adam raised an eyebrow, and the archangel sighed. "I'm not… particularly… I don't like him," the archangel declared simply after a moment, and Adam pushed their eyebrows even higher at that, somewhat surprised by the admission. Then, after a moment of thought, he… he actually wasn't too shocked. Michael probably knew more about John Winchester than _Adam_ did - he was pretty sure he remembered something about the archangel having possessed John at once point, several years ago, though that had been a long time ago. Still, it was an odd thing, truly, to hear Michael voice anything negative about anybody. "John Winchester is…" Michael made a quiet, low sound in the back of their throat, a clear note of disapproval, "he's- he's an _asshole."_

Adam whistled slightly, unable to keep himself from lighting up on time. The grin that appeared on his face came without much of a struggle, but still definitely without his permission. Still, he did little to fight it back, impressed by the fact that even _Michael_ recognized that John wasn't a good person. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, though, the archangel shook their head. Then he said, "it's not because he's not a good person - I mean, he isn't, but that's not really…"

Adam furrowed their eyebrows, confused and curious once again, but also somewhat worried.

"He's a horrible father," Michael finally murmured. "And he reminds me of Chuck."

Adam stayed silent for a moment while Michael finally seemed to relax, sinking back even further. After a few seconds, Adam offered another light squeeze, wrapping their arms tighter around them and unfurling their wings after a moment so that they could sink backwards into them. Michael wrapped those around them, too, hooking them over their shoulders lightly and dragging them backwards into the soft feathers, wrapped up in a bundle of warmth and energy that hummed and buzzed like a live wire. It was a comforting sensation. "Well," Adam finally sighed, tugging their lips into a mirthless grin, "you know, it's like you said. Fathers are overrated. Brother's are where it's at." He offered Michael another squeeze, and the archangel smiled slightly as he squeezed back in response.

Still, he had another concern, which he wasn't too hesitant to voice now that he'd already admitted what had been bothering him to begin with. "But I don't want this to interfere with-"

"I know," Adam interrupted, somewhat amused. It was already too late for that; if Adam hadn't already been set on his conviction, if he hadn't already _planned_ on not even interacting with John if he could help it, that would have sealed the deal right then. In a way, it already did. But it certainly strengthened his resolve. Michael sighed at this, but Adam just squeezed them again lightly in response before he let go and folded their wings back. "Doesn't matter. I hate him, too."

"It's more of a strong dislike," Michael admitted.

"Because you're incapable of hating anyone."

Michael thought about that for a moment, then let out a low grumble of, "not true," with a few choice people on the brain, two of them being 'Alternate Michael' and that demon, Asmodeus. "Of course, if you were to forgive him," Michael began, "if that ever was an option, Adam, I do want you to know-" And Adam was already shaking his head, because he did already know that Michael was too good of a person, too wonderful, to even consider coming between Adam and any one of his family members. Just because he wasn't actively trying to get Adam to reconcile with John didn't mean that he didn't want him to, or that he was against the idea. Yes, the demon knew that. But the demon also knew that he genuinely didn't plan on doing so anyway.

They fell silent for a while to listen again, and Adam ended up shifting his focus to the female voice. He was somewhat curious, but Michael seemed to recognize who it was after a second. "Mary Winchester…" The archangel mumbled, puzzled, and Adam raised their eyebrows.

"Well, they must be having some kind of reunion," the demon muttered. "Too bad, I want bacon." But he didn't intend to disturb them for too long. He wasn't going to let John Winchester keep him from going where he wanted to go, and he didn't care what the hell Mary had to say about it - but considering he'd never met the woman, he'd save all of his opinions of her until he actually saw what she was like for himself. Something stirred in Michael's head, a memory that wasn't his own, faces flashing and flickering. The archangel ducked their head slightly as it all came to light, as Castiel's voice rang in their head - " _I made a mistake. People got hurt. His mother- his mother…"_ \- and then Jack's face popped up, eyes devoid of emotion. And Adam realized it all at once why John and Mary were in the bunker's kitchen now. And suddenly it seemed less of an inconvenience - still not something he was jumping for joy over, but… he wasn't as pissed off.

Adam stifled a sigh, lingering in the hall for a moment, before turning away. With those implications hanging in the air, even Adam wasn't about to ruin what his brothers had been given right then. But he looked over just in time to see Sam turn the corner and head down the hall, pausing. Surprise flickered across his face for a second, and then delight once he had spotted them, and Michael managed to offer him a hesitant smile while Adam fought back an irritated grimace despite himself. "Uh- hey. I didn't know you were awake," Sam greeted, venturing a little closer to them with an awkward but warm smile all the same. "Good morning."

"Morning," Adam sighed, raising his eyebrows. "Don't you have a family reunion to sit through?"

Once again, a shadow of surprise darkened Sam's features, and his smile melted into an almost guilty expression before he seemed to reign it in again. This gave Adam pause, however, feeling an odd twinge of frustration directed solely toward himself. He really needed to give them both a proper apology for pretty much being ready to murder them on sight whenever he saw them at first. He'd already leveled with Sam about knowing that it wasn't his fault, everything that had happened to him, but he didn't think he and Dean had had the same conversation yet, and it didn't quite seem to have stuck with Sam either. So he'd have to fix that soon, too…

"Yeah… about that…" Sam shifted slightly, hesitant.

_Oh, no,_ Adam bit back a groan. Michael smiled sympathetically, turning back to face Sam.

"You should come say hi," Sam finally offered. He seemed hesitant, but whether he was hesitant to _make_ the offer or simply hesitant because he didn't know how Adam would respond to it, the demon wasn't quite sure. But he still couldn't keep himself from wrinkling his nose in time, and Sam was quick to add, "you know, if you want to. You don't have to. If you don't want to see him…" He trailed off and took a deep breath, lifting a hand and running his fingers through his hair lightly. Adam narrowed their eyes faintly and glanced away. Michael was silent for the most part, nothing but supportive as his Grace hummed against Adam's soul, and when the demon hadn't responded for a moment, the archangel took a deep breath and lifted their gaze again.

"I don't think he wants to interrupt…" Michael inclined their head in Sam's direction, glancing past them briefly. Sam blinked, and then his eyes widened. Adam let out a groan this time.

"Michael." He stifled a sigh, not upset, but somewhat embarrassed despite himself.

"You wouldn't be interrupting anything," Sam insisted, wide-eyed.

"Shut up," Adam mumbled.

Sam opened his mouth and paused, snapping it shut again. Adam watched his eyes flicker rapidly, lost in thought, before he took in a breath and spoke again, "you won't be interrupting. Honestly, all we're doing is… eating breakfast and talking. We were actually waiting for you," the hunter admitted, and Adam raised their eyebrows slightly at that, somewhat caught off guard. "I mean, I think- I think our Mom wants to meet you and… Dad's not particularly happy about…" He tilted his head forward a little, toward them, and it took Adam and Michael a few seconds to understand. Michael was the first one; he stiffened, their entire body going rigid, and Adam followed suit on that front by narrowing their eyes in a steely glare that wasn't quite directed toward his older brother. Sam seemed to falter, then grimaced, clearly dismayed but understanding. "Yeah, I figured you wouldn't be happy about that. I just wanted to warn you in case he says something, because, uh- he doesn't exactly have a filter when it comes to…"

"If he says something," Adam replied stiffly, "I _will_ punch him, Sam." He shifted back a little and lifted a hand to run their fingers through their hair, briefly checking in with Michael to make sure that he didn't have an issue with Adam popping in for a quick hello. He didn't - of course he didn't - but he seemed particularly disgruntled now. He hadn't been upset, just disappointed, to know that Dean had a problem with them still sharing a body - with John, he seemed irritated. _Maybe I won't have to punch him,_ he mused, _I feel like you'd do that yourself right now._

Michael didn't agree. He didn't disagree, either.

"Hey, I wouldn't blame you." Sam offered them a crooked smile and Adam finally relaxed again. Michael was slower to follow, rolling their shoulders slightly and taking a deep breath.

Sam let them into the kitchen, and Adam draped the towel back over their shoulders, setting their jaw and stubbornly refusing to look at John once they entered. Instead, he took note of the others' positions first. Dean was sitting - and Adam was somewhat startled to see Castiel leaning over the back of the hunter's chair with his arms wrapped around Dean (Michael was less surprised, but he practically beamed the moment he saw them, all irritation with John forgotten for the time being). Jack was sitting at the table, though he seemed rather tense; but he smiled at them all the same as Sam went over to sit down beside him. Adam studied them all for a moment, then finally turned their gaze to where John was. But he barely focused on him for more than a second before choosing, instead, to fix his gaze on the woman at his side. It was definitely Mary, Michael recognized her at once. Adam, however, couldn't keep himself from going rigid in time as she met his gaze. At first glance, she almost looked like his own mother.

A part of him insisted that it made sense. John must have a thing for blondes.

He stared for a moment, as the woman gazed at him. He stared until he couldn't anymore, because her expression was too soft, her eyes were too wide, and she had _that_ look on her face, the look that reminded him too much of Kate, and he genuinely couldn't handle that. It was bad enough with Rowena, but with someone who actually somewhat resembled his mother…

For once, he was almost happy to shift his focus to John when the man stood up. But it didn't stop him from narrowing his eyes, mostly at the wary gaze his father fixed on them. "Adam," John greeted, somewhat hesitantly. Then in a low, cautious rumble, he asked, "or am I speaking to the archangel?" And Adam wanted to punch him unconscious. But he didn't. Not just yet.

"You're speaking to both of us," Adam informed him simply. "Right now, though, it's Adam."

John narrowed his eyes slightly for a moment, regarding him cautiously still. But then he seemed to relax, the tension seeming to drain from his shoulders. He took a step forward. Adam didn't move an inch, but he jerked their chin up slightly and narrowed their eyes at his father. "Sam and Dean told me you'd been trapped in a Cage with the Devil," John began slowly, once again cautious, but this time as if he wasn't really sure what he was saying. Adam raised their eyebrows slightly, while Michael struggled to stifle a flicker of anger. "That you were a demon."

Adam smiled dryly. He wished he knew how to do that thing with his eyes on command, because he'd be flashing them at his father right then and there if he'd been able to do so.

"And that you were stuck with…"

"Not stuck," Adam interrupted, narrowing their eyes slightly. "This is a _choice."_

John paused. He seemed to catch the warning tone, the glare Adam was offering him. What was really interesting was how he didn't seem particularly ready to back down yet, not until he'd lifted his chin and met the demon's gaze completely. Only then did a flicker of surprise cross his expression, a flicker of uncertainty and wariness, and he simply continued to stare until Mary had pushed herself up to step forward beside John. Adam couldn't help but tense as he flicked their gaze back up to her again. Michael's Grace hummed softly around his soul, and he lifted their arms to wrap them around them again, offering a light squeeze until Mary stepped forward and extended a hand to them. "It's nice to meet you. Both of you," Mary added quickly, warmly. "I'm Mary - Sam and Dean's Mom."

Adam sucked in a breath and glanced down at her hand. From the corner of his eye, he saw John grimace and take his seat again, and heard a stifled snicker from Dean before his oldest brother covered it up with a cough. Michael laughed a little himself, albeit internally, at the disgruntled expression on John's face, but Adam's attention was all for Mary right then.

He was struck, not just by her similarities with Kate, but with Sam. The warmth in her eyes, the gentleness, the way she seemed much more ready to accept Michael than John had been. And Dean had certainly taken some traits from John, as it seemed, but his oldest brother, at least, had been quick to open up and admit that he'd been wrong. He'd been quick to put a foot forward and start trying once he and Michael had actually spoken. Given the stony expression on John's face, Adam wasn't too sure whether or not the same approach would work with him, but if he was being completely honest, he didn't care enough to try to level with him, either.

The demon lifted his gaze and clasped his hand with Mary's, staring at her. "Adam," he murmured, and offered Michael's Grace a light nudge with his soul so he'd introduce himself.

"Michael," the archangel greeted, hesitantly, but he seemed to relax when Mary smiled.

"The boys said you two would probably have a hangover." Mary pulled back, and before Adam and Michael could explain to her that they didn't anymore, she was adding, "I made some coffee if you want, and there's still bacon and eggs. It's probably cold now, but I could make more." Adam raised an eyebrow and glanced over, and Michael seemed too pleasantly surprised by the warmth the woman was displaying to both of them to decline. Besides, hangover or no hangover, Adam could still definitely go for some coffee and bacon right about now.

He still wasn't too fond of John…

But maybe having Mary there wouldn't be half-bad.


End file.
